


I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus: After-Credits

by pupeez4eva



Series: I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Bat Family, Christmas, Gen, Humor, Missing Scenes, Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-13 01:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pupeez4eva/pseuds/pupeez4eva
Summary: A series of missing and extra scenes from "I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus".





	1. Hospital Blues

**Summary:  Following Damian's stay at the hospital, the parents of his fellow ward-mates have a lot to complain about. ** **(Takes place during Chapter 11, "The Truth Comes Out.")**

  

* * *

 

 

It was her first week as a nurse, and Christine was really starting to rethink her career choice. It had seemed like a great profession — she’d be able to meet new people, help people, and there were plenty of job opportunities. 

 

None of this, however, had factored into her plans.

 

There was an irritate, “Excuse me!” and the sound of hurried footsteps. It could have been about anything, but somehow Christine _knew_ it was going to be another complaint about _that_ family. 

 

She’d already had two other families approach her, demanding to have their children moved to another room. She’d tried to explain to them, in the most patient, sympathetic voice she could muster, that she’d do her best. 

 

It’d help if she knew what she was doing — after only a few days on the job, Christine still had a lot to learn, and she doubted she could just move the children to another room without asking for permission first. Her colleagues were in too much of a hurry to listen to her inquiries — apparently it always got extra busy around Christmas time — and Christine could feel her composure rapidly fading. 

 

She turned around and smiled weakly. “Can I help you?”

 

The man standing in front of her glared. “I want my child to be moved to a different room.”

 

_‘Dammit.’_

 

“I’ll see what I can do about it,” she said, hoping the strain in her voice wasn’t too obvious, “but honestly, we’re quite packed — ”

 

“I refuse to let my son stay in that room!” the man barked, and Christine flinched. “It’s a fucking nightmare!”

 

_‘Goddammit, why did you decide to become a nurse, why did you agree to work on CHRISTMAS of all days — ’_

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said.

 

“He’s not staying there a second longer!”

 

“Sir could you please tell me what’s wrong?” Because despite all the complaints she’d received, she still had no idea what the _hell_ was going on, and she’d really like to know. She’d heard snippets of what was happening, furious comments about Santa Claus, and ruined Christmas’, and bad parenting, and Bruce Wayne — but none of it really made sense and just made her more confused than she was to begin with.

 

“Hey! You!” Oh God, no. “Who do I talk to to get my daughter moved to a different room?!” A woman hurried over, her face red and blotchy. Christine’s head throbbed.

 

“Just one second — ”

 

“Hey, I’ve seen you!” The woman turned to the man, her eyes widening in recognition. “Our kids are in the same room, right?”

 

The man nodded quickly. “The one with those awful people, and that — that man in that… _costume.”_ He spat the word out like it was something awful. 

 

“Yes!”

 

Christine was struck by the sudden realisation that she _really didn’t want to know._ Her shift was almost over anyway, and she’d just find someone else to help them and be on her way. 

 

“I’ll see what I can do for you,” she said, before turning to walk away.

 

“Do you know what they did?” the man spat, and Christine stopped abruptly. She closed her eyes and cursed her inability to simply walk away — the thought of seeming rude always made her feel nervous and uncomfortable — and turned around, fighting to keep the grimace of her face.

 

“That boy told everyone that Santa Claus was some sort of… _rapist!”_

 

Christine stared, because seriously — _what the hell?!_

 

“And — and all this talk about _dungeons_ and _kidnapping!_ And then do you know what happened?! The _father_ went and told him, in front of all the kids — _our fucking kids —_ that Santa Claus wasn’t real!”

 

The woman nodded, clutching her hands to her chest. “Honestly, by that point it was almost a blessing — my poor daughter was so traumatised. I don’t blame that poor boy, obviously his family has been filling his head with that filth — how does he even _know_ about things like that?! It’s disgusting, honestly — ”

 

“Something needs to be done!”

 

Christine took a step backwards. “Um, I — ”

 

“The _police_ were there!”

 

“Right. Yes. I’m just going to — ”

 

And then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, a man strolled out into the corridor, and Christine suddenly knew exactly what the father had meant by ‘that… _costume.’_

 

She didn’t know where he had _bought_ that thing, and she didn't know why he’d been allowed into the hospital dressed like that. They had security, didn’t they? How had he even made it this far inside?

 

The man’s eyes zeroed in on her, and Christine wondered if it’d be terribly unprofessional of her to take off running to the nearest exist.

 

“Oh hey, finally someone who works here. Hey Replacement, I found one before you did, take that!” She wasn’t sure who he was talking to, and no one replied, but he didn’t seem to bothered. He continued to stroll forward as Christine watched him wearily. “Hey, when can Demon Brat leave? He’s really not that hurt — the bullet just grazed his arm. I want to get _home,_ and apparently I’m stuck here with these assholes because Alfred chose today of all days to explore his sadistic side — hey, are you listening to me?”

 

 _“Yes!”_ the woman nodded hurriedly. “Yes, there’s no point in him staying here longer than he needs to — ”

 

“This is my first week!” Christine snapped. The three of them stopped and stared at her as if _she_ was the crazy one.

 

She swallowed and took a step back. “I’ll find someone to help you.” 

 

She then turned around and all but ran down the corridor and around the corner. Yes, she really needed to rethink her career choices.

 

* * *

 

 

**AN:**

 

**So…I’ve decided to write a few mini fics based on missing scenes and extra scenes from my fic “I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus.” It’s one of my favourite fics out of all the ones Ive written, and I thought it might be fun to do this since it’s December, and Christmas is coming up soon :) This isn’t going to be too long, maybe 8-10 oneshots/drabbles at most.**

 

**Hopefully you enjoy this (and hopefully you guys haven’t forgotten all about “I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus”…it’s been quite a while since the story finished after all) and tell me what you think! :D**


	2. Classroom Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian returns to school and has something he needs to tell his classmates. Ms. Fields is not impressed (makes reference to chapters 1, “How It All Began” and 2, “Damian’s Letter”)

When Damian Wayne stood up and declared that he had an announcement to make, Antonia felt an instant sense of dread. Nothing good ever came out of a conversation with Damian Wayne. The kid honestly terrified her.

 

He was already marching to the front of the room, head raised high and determined, and she knew that even if she wanted to, there was no stopping him. God, she was actually scared of a ten year old kid. _How_ was this her life?

 

Damian stood at the front of the room and squared his shoulders. The rest of the class looked on, bored and impatient. Maybe in a few years they’d actually be curious or amused, waiting to see what the crazy Wayne kid was about to do next, but right now Damian was just a weird kid who essentially spoke gibberish. 

 

“You see,” Damian said, “this past week, I learned something exciting. Something that will provide you with the peace that you…well you certainly don’t _deserve_ this, but I will be kind enough to grant you this if only so I never have to hear the words ‘Santa Claus’ ever again.”

 

Antonia had three immediate thoughts: what child _talks_ like that, Damian was happy, so that had to be a good sign (she hoped), and…did he just say _Santa Claus?_

 

“Santa gave me a bike for Christmas!” 

 

“And I got a doll!”

 

Damian snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. Santa did not give you those things.”

 

Antonia felt a shiver of dread.

 

“Of _course_ he did,” a boy from the front row — Tommy — argued. “I saw Santa this Christmas! He was drinking the milk I left him and everything.” 

 

Damian shook his head. “That wasn’t Santa.”

 

“Er, Damian,” Antonia said, deciding that now would be a perfect time to intervene. She had a pretty good idea where this was going, and she did _not_ want to deal with the aftermath. “Maybe we could continue this later. We really need to move on to — ”

 

“Quiet, Fields,” Damian said sharply. “You have lied to me. In fact, I would go as far as to say that this whole mess was all because of you. Be glad that I haven’t lodged a formal complaint.” 

 

Damian turned back to the class, while Antonia stared miserably at him, still wondering how she’d become this scared of a child.

 

 _‘He’s probably the anti-christ,’_ she thought, trying to soothe her worries.

 

“You see,” Damian said, addressing his classmates, “the person you saw was simply a close male relative of yours. Most likely your father. It was certainly not _Santa Claus.”_

 

Antonia braced herself.

 

The room erupted. 

 

“You’re lying!”

 

“Santa’s real!”

 

“Mommy _told me — ”_

 

“Ms. Fields, tell him that Santa’s real!”

 

Antonia took an unconscious step backwards, her eyes wide as she eyed the chaos in front of her.

 

“He’s not real!” Damian snapped. “My father said so! It was all a ruse, concocted to ruin your childhoods, but _I_ discovered the truth! Santa Claus is _fake!”_

 

There were more screams of protest. 

 

“Why are you being like this? You should be happy! Your female relatives are safe!”

 

God, she should really do something about this, but…she glanced at the clock. Just ten minutes to go until lunch time, and then Damian Wayne wouldn’t be her problem anymore.

 

Antonia closed her eyes and bit back a sigh, as the children continued to (loudly) voice their displeasure. Maybe teaching just wasn’t for her.

 

**…**

 

**AN:**

 

**Omg I suck…I was planning on writing these around Christmas time, and now it’s February by the time I finally get this done. Hopefully I’ll stop taking these massive breaks between updates…I’m planning on updating some of my chaptered fics (hopefully either ‘The Troubles of Time Travel’ or ‘Ghostly Interventions’ will be the next fics to be updated) so hopefully I can get those done soon.**

 

**Anyway, hopefully you guys enjoyed this, and once again, sorry for the long wait!**


	3. Steph Finds Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph finally finds out why Damian was so desperate to marry her off to Bruce (makes reference to Chapter 6, "Mommy Issues")

“Wait, wait, wait…” Steph grinned. They were seated in the living room, as Tim told an eager Steph of the previous week’s events. “So the reason Damian wanted me to marry Bruce was because…he thought _Santa_ _Claus_ was going to _kidnap_ Dick, and trap him in the North Pole for the rest of eternity?” 

 

Tim shrugged. “That’s the abridged version, yeah.”

 

“There’s _more?”_

 

“Steph. There is _so_ much more.” Tim grimaced, memories of the week still fresh. It was ridiculous when he thought back on it, but that didn’t make it any better. The memory of Damian attacking ‘Santa’ in the mall still made him shudder. 

 

“Well _tell me_ then!” Steph demanded, bouncing slightly on the couch in her excitement. “I can’t believe I missed out on this!” 

 

Tim opened his mouth, but was interrupted when Damian walked into the room. He immediately fell silent, feeling almost guilty. Sure, Damian was a demonic little brat, but he’d seemed genuinely traumatised by everything that happened (and very obviously embarrassed, which Tim was more than a little pleased about). He _had_ completely lost it, driven everyone insane, ran away from home and got himself _shot,_ which was probably a record for ten-year-old rebellion. So maybe making fun of his little break down wasn’t the best thing to do.

 

Then again, it _was_ Damian…

 

“What are you talking about?” Damian demanded. 

 

Tim toyed with making something up. 

 

“I heard you mention _that_ name.” Damian crossed his arms in front of him and scowled darkly. 

 

Well. So much for that then.

 

Steph let out a snort of laughter, nodding enthusiastically. “Tim was just telling me about your Christmas adventures. I mean, _wow,_ I can’t even believe it. They should create a Christmas movie about you — oh my God Tim, _we should so do that.”_

 

“You will do nothing of the sort! I…had an error of judgement, that’s all. It was all _Todd’s_ fault.” 

 

Jason _had_ caused most of this mess, Tim had to admit. Although he never would have expected Damian to be so gullible _._ It served as a reminder that he was just ten years old…and _God_ was that weird.

 

“An error of judgement.” Steph’s grin widened. _“Sure.”_

 

“I know the truth now. Santa Claus is not real,” Damian said, sounding extremely proud. 

 

“…You are literally the _only_ kid I have _ever_ met who has sounded that happy saying that.” 

 

Damian snorted. “Please. Anyone who actually looks forward to a strange man sneaking into their house, molesting their parents — ”

 

Steph snorted and Tim rubbed his forehead tiredly, and Tim thought, _‘Here we go.’_

 

“ — eating their food and leaving them some god-awful present that he forced his _slaves_ to make — and then doing _God_ knows what in their home, before repeating this procedure in _every home in every country across the entire world,_ needs to be institutionalised.

 

Steph and Tim stared.

 

“…Wow,” Steph said at last, “you want to shoot the Easter Bunny while you’re at it?” 

 

Damian’s brow furrowed. “What’s the _Easter Bunny?”_

 

Steph opened her mouth to reply, but Tim shook his head frantically. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got the next chapter out! Sorry for the long wait...this was initially supposed to be finished around last December which...obviously didn't happen xD


	4. Christmas Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being forced to perform in his school's Christmas concert, Damian decides to make a few changes to 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town' to reflect his true opinion of Santa Claus (set the next Christmas after the events of 'I Saw Grayson Kissing Santa Claus').

“I refuse!”

 

“Damian, you _will_ be taking part in the Christmas concert!”

 

Damian barred his teeth and glared at his teacher, who simply stared back, unimpressed. The man was still fairly new, and had yet to realise just how much of a real threat Damian Wayne posed.

 

(Antonia Fields had — and she’d taken the first opportunity to hightail out of there as soon as she could).

 

“I will _not_ be lowering myself to that,” Damian said, raising his chin defiantly. “Singing those ghastly Christmas carols in front of the entire student body _and_ the parents…”

 

The thought of humiliating himself in front of _Father —_ and the others, because there was no way Grayson wouldn’t drag the entire family to that dreadful thing — made him grimace. 

 

“You don’t have a choice, Damian. Involvement is compulsory.” In a softer voice, his teacher added, “If your embarrassed to sing in front of everyone, I’ll be separating you into groups — ”

 

“This isn’t over!” Damian yelled, cutting him off.

 

…

 

In the end, they were separated into small groups. Damian watches his teammates with distaste. He doesn’t know any of them personally and had no wish to. He’d simply endure this nightmare only because he had to; his attempts to fight against this injustice had been met with opposition from Father, who hadn’t been happy with him ‘giving his teachers a hard time.’ What a laugh — the fools deserved it, coming up with ridiculous stunts like this. Schools were supposed to educate their students and prepare them for the outside world. How on earth would singing a few awful songs achieve that?

 

The truth was, Damian wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of Christmas. Sure, his last Christmas had been far from ideal, what with Todd spreading his lies about Santa Claus, and his constant fear of Grayson’s impending abduction. In the end though, it’d all worked out for the best, and he’d discovered the truth — Santa Claus was nothing more than the worst myth he had ever come across. After that things had seemed just a little bit better. He’d gone through hell to discover that truth — even taken a bullet in the arm for it — but it had been worth it in the end.

 

However, liking Christmas and embarrassing himself in front of everyone were _not_ the same thing. 

 

He briefly considered convincing his group to take a stand against this injustice, perhaps organise a strike — a quick march outside to show this idiotic institution that they were not mindless puppets that would cater to their every whim — but a quick look at the snivelling children around him reminded him that not everyone was as enlightened as he was.

 

He slouched slightly, scowling. He’d just have to steel himself and endure this for Father’s sake. 

 

“I’m going to be assigning each group a different Christmas carol,” his teacher said. “You’ll each have a chance to perform in your groups for the Christmas Concert.”

 

He could do this. It was just one song. He’d make sure to tell Father that he would _not_ be wearing anything embarrassing, no matter how much Grayson wailed about reindeer antlers and Christmas hats.

 

His teacher reached their group, smiled and said, “Your song will be ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town.’”

 

Damian froze.

 

_No._

 

…

 

Santa Claus may have been a fake — and thank god for that — but that didn’t mean that, deep down, Damian didn’t still bare a grudge. After all, he’d wasted close to a week trying to thwart the plans of an imaginary foe, and all because someone had thought it'd be a good idea to encourage the idea of a grown man sneaking in through chimneys, and doing God knows what inside their homes.

 

Maybe he wasn’t real, but that didn’t mean that Damian was willing to go singing songs about him, especially _this_ one. He could still remember Colin and him commenting on the strange nature of the lyrics, and the thought of standing up in front of everyone, singing words that _obviously_ hinted at the dangers of Santa Claus, yet still had children and adults everywhere cooing over the wonders of Christmas like the mindless fools they were…well, there was no way Damian would ever lower himself to that.

 

If they wanted him to sing ‘Santa Claus Is Coming to Town’ then he would sing ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’…but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do a little editing first. Surely changing a few lyrics here and there wouldn’t do any harm. Something a bit more educational…something to teach those parents that creating characters like _Santa Claus_ could only be harmful in the long run.

 

His group hadn’t minded the changes — if anything, they seemed pleased at the idea of rebelling against their teachers (and the ones that seemed a bit more unsure were too terrified of Damian too argue). Damian handed out copies of the lyrics and smirked. It was a simple plan, and hardly some of his best work, but it’d be effective. 

 

…

 

Bruce should’ve known something was wrong the second Damian stepped onto the stage actually wearing a pair of reindeer antlers. Damian had spent the past week loudly protesting wearing anything remotely Christmas related to the concert, so him giving in could only spell disaster.

 

“He looks so cute!” Dick cooed. Beside him, Jason was too busy trying not to choke on his laughter — while the rest of the family had taken some convincing to be dragged along (something Dick had enthusiastically taken upon himself to do) Jason had immediately agreed (“Demon Brat forced to sing Christmas carols against his will? Fuck _yeah_ I’m in — me and my video camera. Little shit is never going to live this down”). 

 

Damian’s teacher was announcing the name of the next song — “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” — when Damian took a step forward, and cut him off. “We’ve made a few alterations to the song.”

 

The teacher frowned. “What?”

 

“You’ll soon find out.”

 

“What’s he doing?” Tim muttered.

 

Bruce tensed, watching the stage. Damian looked almost smug now, which was never a good sign. 

 

He turned around and nodded towards the small group of children behind him. The music started playing. They opened their mouths.

 

They started singing. 

 

“Oh my god,” Tim said, his eyes widening. Bruce agreed wholeheartedly. He was starting to think that he should just ban Damian from participating in all things Christmas related from now on. Because right now, the group of children were cheerily singing along to the tune of ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’, but the words coming out of their mouths sure as hell weren’t the lyrics to that famous Christmas carol.

 

_“He says ‘watch out’_

_He says ‘don’t cry’_

_But don’t listen to him_

_I’ll telling you why_

_Santa Claus is a dangerous man._

 

_He knows all of your names_

_He knows where you all live_

_He knows about your families_

_Now he’s coming to your house.”_

 

“Oh god, Dami,” Dick said, sounding horrified. “Bruce — we need to do something.” 

 

“You get up and I will _tackle you_ Dickhead,” Jason said, his eyes glued to the stage. “You aren’t ruining this for me.”

 

Bruce’s eyes twitched. Whoever thought parenthood was a beautiful thing needed to take a look at his life. 

 

_“He knows when you are sleeping_

_He knows when you're awake_

_He also knows where you mother is sleeping_

_And he’s coming to take her away._

 

_OH! He says ‘watch out’_

_He says ‘don’t cry’_

_But if you don’t_

_Tell your mother goodbye_

_He’ll take her to his dungeon in the north pole…”_

 

Damian’s teacher — who had been watching the group, his jaw unhinged — leapt onto the stage, and attempted to wrestle the microphone out of Damian’s hands. 

 

“Stop!” he yelled at the group of children when separating Damian from the microphone seemed to be futile. A few of them stopped, but the rest of them continued, unsure of what to do.

 

“Let this be a warning to you all!” Damian yelled at the stunned audience. “Parents — must cease this behaviour at once! Santa Claus is _dangerous —_ encouraging your children to believe your lies will only lead to terrible consequences. And children — your parents are fools! Let me put your fears to rest — _Santa Claus is not real!”_

 

Another one of Damian’s teachers climbed onto the stage, and between the two of them, they managed to drag Damian off the stage.

 

“I got it _all_ on camera,” Jason said, grinning widely. “I’m thinking I upload this on Youtube and turn it into a viral sensation — maybe we can even put the song on iTunes, make some cash out of it…”

 

That’s it. Christmas was officially Bruce’s least favourite holiday.


	5. Return to 7-Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry and Wanda meet Dick (makes reference to chapter 10, "Damian's Night Before Christmas").

**************** All Dick had wanted was a candy bar — if he'd known that the two workers at the 7-Eleven would be boring holes into him the whole time, he probably would've chosen a different store.

Seriously — was there something wrong with him? Did he look weird, or shifty, or something that would require round-the-clock supervision? Neither of them had taken their eyes off him since he'd walked into the store, and a number of times he'd caught them whispering to each other.

He grabbed a Hershey's bar off the shelf and walked over, depositing it on the counter. The man and woman ('Henry' and 'Wanda' their name tags read) barely seemed to notice.

Dick coughed. "Uh — could I buy that?"

Wanda's eyes widened and she nodded her head quickly, looking flustered. "Sure thing hon! Sorry about that, we just — uh — one Hershey's Bar coming right up!"

"Is there something on my face?" Dick asked.

She blinked. "No?"

"Just — you guys kept staring, that's all." Dick laughed a little awkwardly, trying to stay pleasant. It wasn't too hard really, after what he dealt regularly in his work as Nightwing, and with his family (he loved them, really, but sometimes they drove him crazy).

"Oh," Wanda said, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "I — er — well…we weren't staring, we were just — uh — Henry?"

"You're _Grayson,"_ Henry said, gawking.

Wanda winced and shot him a glare.

Dick nodded, realising they probably recognised him as Bruce Wayne's son (although he wasn't sure why he'd called him by his last name). He'd dealt with that enough of the time, and he felt almost silly for not knowing what this was about right from the start. They were in Gotham, for Christ's sake, of course people were going to recognise him.

He'd thought he'd had it all figured out, so Henry' s next words completely threw Dick.

"I met your brother."

It shouldn't have been surprising, but it was the way he said it — like _that_ was the whole reason they'd been staring.

"Ah — which brother?"

Henry snorted. Wanda shot him another glare, and then gave Dick an embarrassed look.

"Sorry about him. Er — Damian?"

Dick paused, took in his surroundings, and thought, _'Oh. OH.'_

"Christmas Eve," he said, and saw them both wince. "Crap. You were here when he got shot, weren't you?"

No wonder they were acting this way. They were probably traumatised after that.

"Yeah," Wanda said. "How is the little guy?"

"He's fine. The bullet only grazed his arm."

Wanda nodded. "Right. That's good."

There was a moment of silence. Dick coughed and pushed some coins towards them, and Wanda took them, looking embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," Henry blurted, "but I've got to ask — why the _hell_ did he think someone had sent that guy after him? And — all that stuff he was saying about serial molesters and stuff — and he thought he was after _you —_ what was all that?"

Wanda looked like she was struggling between finding out what she wanted to know and being polite, and obviously her curiosity won over in the end. "The police said it was just a normal robbery so — _what_ was going on with that? If you don't mind me asking."

Dick stared at them, his eyes wide. Sure, he'd known a little of what had gone down here last Christmas, but hearing it from them gave him a whole new perspective of it, and he realised just how crazy Damian must have looked to them.

"The little psycho _tackled the gunman,"_ Henry said, as if reading Dick's thoughts. "Seriously, what the fuck? I thought I was going to die."

"We're glad he's okay," Wanda cut in, smiling at Dick. "I've got to ask though — what was all that about?"

Dick picked up his chocolate bar, and stared at them thoughtfully for a moment.

"Two words," he said at last. They leaned in, eyes wide. "Santa Claus."

Silence.

Henry gaped. "What? What the hell — what does that even _mean?"_

Dick gave them a quick wave and walked out the door. He _had_ called Dami a little psycho, and there was no way Dick was letting anyone get away with that.

"Oh come on, I just really want to know! Is that some sort of rich-person-code or something? Hello? Goddammit — he's not coming back, is he?"


	6. An Apology to Mall Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce forces Damian to apologise to the mall Santa (set right after chapter 5, "Santa Meets Damian").

The only reason Tom had even agreed to do this stupid job was because he was desperate for a bit of extra cash. Finding casual work these days, especially at his age, was _hard._ And honestly, how bad could it be? Sure he’d have to put up with a few annoying brats here and there, but he’d babysat his niece and nephew enough to have gotten the hang of it. Focus on the cute stuff, he always told himself, and ignore how goddamn annoying they were. Besides, the kids were too starstruck at the thought of meeting ‘Santa’ to be too bad.

 

Honestly the ‘elves’ (a bunch of teens who apparently thought this was a great way to spend their weekend) were more of a problem. That one kid (Timmy? Tommy?) seemed alright, but that Max kid was driving him crazy with his constant complaining. But, well, he could deal. Things could be worse. He could be scrubbing toilets, or cleaning up vomit, or who knows what else.

 

 

And then he met the demon child, and realised that no, he could _not_ deal.

 

That kid had fucking attacked him. Tom wasn’t even sure exactly what had happened, because he was too busy screaming, and trying to get that fucking psycho off him, and trying not to _die,_ but he was pretty sure the kid had been trying to kill him. He'd been screaming some crap about him being a kidnapper and a _pervert,_ and jeez, he may not have been the most upstanding of citizens, but he sure as hell wasn’t _that._ Luckily everyone had been too busy trying to tear the kid off him to pay much attention to the shit he’d been sprouting. 

 

Anyway, it had been a traumatic experience, and Tom had decided that he was never having kids, not if they had the potential to turn into _that._ He’d also decided that he was getting the fuck out of here, his agreement to play Santa Claus until the end of the holiday period be damned.

 

Unfortunately his boss hadn’t been too pleased with that, and after a long meeting filled with lots of arguing, raised voices and swearing, Tom had finally gotten her to agree after claiming that he’d “sue her ass if she didn’t let him get the fuck out of here.” He was stuck here for another day until they hopefully found someone else (the woman had practically begged him — apparently there wasn’t exactly a huge line of people waiting to play mall Santa), and then he was staying away from all kids, preferably for the rest of his life (and, thanks to that decision, it’d hopefully be a longer one).

 

The day was almost over and things had been relatively calm so far. Then there was a small, polite cough, and he glanced up, expecting yet another kid standing with his/her parent, and that’s exactly what he got.

 

Unfortunately, it was _that_ kid. Tom figured his response — to swear loudly, leap to his feet, and back away — was entirely justified (plus there was only one elf present since Timmy/Tommy/Tony/whatever his name was had backed out, and Max was currently on his lunch break, so right now he was facing the devil child alone).

 

“Father,” the boy spat,”this is pointless.”

 

“Quiet Damian,” an older man — “Father” he guessed — said sternly. He turned to him and sighed. “I am _deeply_ sorry for what happened yesterday. Damian here has something to say to you.”

 

The boy remained still, his eyes narrowed. Tom really wanted to tell them to get the hell away from him, but the words were frozen in his throat.

 

_“Damian.”_

 

“Sorry,” the boy spat, not sounding very sorry at all. “I was wrong. You aren’t Santa after all. You’re just a _fake.”_

 

Oh Jesus.

 

The dad’s jaw clenched, and he shot the kid a warning glance.

 

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”the boy grumbled. Then, in a softer voice, “Sorry you weren’t the real thing. Have no doubt, had you truly been Santa Claus, you’d be six feet under the ground right now, and not even a Lazarus Pit could bring you back.”

 

“Damian!” his dad barked. “I can _hear_ you.”

 

“I was his own fault! The man shouldn’t have been masquerading as a known criminal — ”

 

“Known criminal — ? Damian _what are you talking about?_ This man is not a criminal. He works here.”

 

Damian sniffed. “Well I know _that.”_

 

“It’s fine,” Tom said hurriedly. Anything so the kid would leave faster…please, for the love of God, just _go._

 

After a few more moments, the devil child and his unfortunate dad finally left, and Tom let out a sigh of relief. Christ, as if he needed an apology. He just wanted to be left alone.

 

The kid stopped abruptly, turned around, and hurried back. Tom’s eyes widened and he took a few steps back.

 

“Listen,” Damian hissed, “I understand that you are a fake, but if you hear _anything_ from the old man, you _will_ let me know. Who knows, word of my attack on you may have spread, and he may already know I’m on to him — ”

 

 _“Damian!_ What the hell are you doing?!” 

 

Damian stiffened. “Drat. Father won’t let me be…I’ll leave my details at the information desk, and if you hear _anything — ”_  

 

_“DAMIAN!”_

 

“I’m _coming!”_ With one last scowl in his direction, the boy hurried off after his father.

 

Tom looked after him, gaping. At the end of his shift, he made a point to stay far away from the information desk, and resolved to stay away from the shopping centre from that day onwards. No _way_ was he risking bumping into that little psychopath again.

 


	7. Colin vs Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin attempts to ambush Santa in the orphanage, and one poor nun is left feeling very confused.

Sister Agnes stared at the figure in front of her, and thanked the lord she’d said her nightly prayers shortly before.

 

The person — if he could be called that — in front of her was huge. He towered over her easily. She thought he looked familiar, and it took her a while to recognise him as Abuse, a vigilante who had been seen with Robin on the odd occasion.

 

The realisation made her relax somewhat, but still - he was just so _big._ It was making her nervous. And what was he doing in the orphanage at this time of night? The only reason she was up was so that she could leave the children's Christmas presents under the tree. 

 

“You’re not Santa,” Abuse said, sounding genuinely confused. 

 

Sister Agnes stared, unsure of how to answer. 

 

He blinked. “Oh, hi sister!”

 

“Hello?” she said uncertainly. _What_ was going on? “Can — can I help you?” 

 

“Yes?” Abuse rubbed the back of his neck, still looking confused. “I thought Santa would be here by now?” 

 

She stared at him for a moment, and then realised that he was serious. He _genuinely_ believed that Santa was going to be here tonight.

 

Honestly, she didn’t even know what to _say_ to that.

 

She blamed her uncertainty for her eventual response — “He’s not real.”

 

Maybe it was a bit harsh, but it wasn’t as if she was speaking to a child.

 

 Abuse gaped at her. “What?!”

 

“Yes I — ” Oh, why was this so confusing? “I was just — leaving some gifts for the children.”

 

“He’s not real?!” The relief in Abuse’s voice was even more confusing, but she’d long since given up trying to make sense of this. “Oh my god, I’m so happy! I need to tell Robin.”

 

He turned around — to leave the building she supposed, and felt relieved at the thought — and then paused and turned back.

 

He hesitated. “I know you said he’s not real, and I believe you because nun’s don’t lie, right?” 

 

Well, that was one way to put it.

 

“But…just in case, be careful, okay? Don’t — don’t let him kiss you!” Abuse ducked his head in an embarrassed gesture, and hurried out of the room.

 

She stared after him, bewildered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally back (and yes, this one was really short, I know...sorry guys). Three more drabbles left now. I've also posted a new fic in this universe called "A Visit to the North Pole" that you might like to check out :)


End file.
